


Heart

by underthenorthstar



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Because I can’t deal with him dying, Big Teddy Bear Hop, F/M, Family, Fix It Fic, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Jim "Chief" Hopper Lives, Love, Mushy Hopper, Season 3 Fix it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 12:24:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19869616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/underthenorthstar/pseuds/underthenorthstar
Summary: “My family,” she says quietly. “My home. My heart.”(In which no one dies, love survives, and the three of you get to stay a family.)





	Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! Haven’t written a damn thing in ages, but Season 3 inspired me suddenly to write this. I can’t deal with Hopper being dead so this is my way of coping. Fingers crossed he’s alive out there and will make his way home in Season 4!

Weak sunlight filters into your room, washing the cream coloured walls in a hazy yellow glow. You blink your gritty eyes rapidly, a yawn escaping your lips. It was a bad night last night, a night of nightmares and very little sleep. Those came often these days. Ever since that night at the mall, rest has not been kind to your household. It seems even vanquished monsters live on in dreams, ever lurking in the recesses of the mind, waiting to pounce and extract every last ounce of suffering from their victims. 

El shifts beside you, moaning softly in her sleep as the sun dances across her face. You can’t help but let a small smile grace your face. At least she is sleeping. Her nightmares are so bad she has taken to spending the nights in your bed. You cannot count the times you’ve soothed her out of a thrashing panic, her eyes wet with tears as she screams out for her father. You think of how she looked that night, how her hopeful face had crumpled when Joyce emerged alone. You think of how you’d held her as she sobbed, your own tears sliding slowly down your face as you felt your heart split in two. You think of how gray everything seemed suddenly, how colour and light had vanished in those moments, leaving only emptiness and the looming black abyss of grief. You think about a life without Hopper. 

No. Not thoughts you want to think. You shake your head, pushing the bad memories firmly back into the box you’d created for them. This was doing you no good. You might as well get up and make some coffee. You slide quietly out of bed and pad softly to the kitchen, the chill of the morning air making you shiver and pull your flannel shirt tighter around you. A whiff of cigarette smoke wafts up from the unwashed material, making you pull the collar up to your nose and inhale deeply. Smoke and cologne and sweat fill your nostrils. To some, the mixture might be revolting, but to you, it is the most delicious scent in the world. It’s late night drives and lunch dates and evenings snuggled up on the couch. It’s deep kisses and great sex and waking up cocooned in warm arms. It’s a gorgeous man with a big heart and so much love to give it almost hurts. It’s joy and peace and love and happiness. It’s your Hop. 

You are so lost in your own mind you don’t hear the creaking of the bedroom door or the steps coming down the hall. You do however, hear the loud thump followed by an even louder swear. 

“Damn it!”

You whirl around. “What on earth are you doing out of bed?!”

Hopper grimaces, rubbing his broken arm through the sling. 

“Had to take a piss. Banged my damn arm on the doorframe. I hate this stupid sling.”

You put your hands on your hips, fixing him with a glare. “You know you’re supposed to ask for help.”

He glares right back at you, wincing as he shuffles his battered body towards his armchair. “I’m not a baby, woman, I can piss on my own.”

You roll your eyes at his stubbornness, rushing forward to help him get into the chair. He grumbles, but lets you bear most of his weight.

“I know you aren’t, but you’ve barely been home from the hospital a week. Need I remind you you were nearly blasted to smithereens by a secret Russian machine in a secret Russian bunker?” You cannot help but let some irritation slip into your tone as you get him into the chair. “Are all men as pig headed and stubborn as you?”

“You don’t have to remind me, I have enough reminders thank you,” he groans, rubbing his broken ribs with his good hand as he settles in. “I’m just damn tired of laying around all the time, having you and El do everything for me. I feel so useless.”

You stomp over to the couch to grab him a blanket. “You don’t think you’ve earned some rest after helping save the world and nearly getting killed in the process?” You throw the blanket across his lap, huffing irritatedly as you do so. “El and I don’t mind helping you, you know. I’d rather help you bathe and dress and take a piss than be visiting your grave.”

The memories of those horrible hours you thought you’d lost him creep slowly out of their box. You wrap your arms around yourself, tears suddenly springing to your eyes. 

Hopper’s gruff look immediately softens as he sees a tear slip down your cheek. “Hey now baby, don’t cry. I’m sorry. Don’t cry okay? Come here, sweetheart.”

He holds out his good arm, trying to coax you into his embrace. You sniffle, shaking your head as the tears begin to fall in earnest. “Your ribs, I don’t want to hurt you-“

“Damn my ribs, I wanna hold you,” he cuts you off, waving his hand in a come hither motion. “Shhh, don’t cry. Come here, baby.” 

The urge to feel his warm body against yours overwhelms you, and you crawl into his lap with a sob. He cradles you to him as best he can, wrapping his one arm around you as you press your face into his neck. 

“It’s okay,” he murmurs into your hair. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m here. I’m here and I ain’t going anywhere. No damn monster or Russian plot can take me from you. You’re stuck with my stubborn ass.”

You choke out a giggle. “Well, it is a very nice ass. S’not so bad to be stuck with it.”

He laughs softly, dropping soft kisses to the crown of your head. “I’m glad.” You press yourself further into him, revelling in the feel of his pulse thrumming beneath your lips, sure and strong and alive. You reach for his hand that’s splayed over your thigh, smiling at the feeling of his calloused fingers intertwining with yours. Your love for this man hits a swelling crescendo. How could you have gone on without him? Without his love? You would have done it, but you would’ve never been the same. 

“I love you,” you whisper into his skin. “I love you so much.”

His breath catches in his throat, and his fingers tighten around yours. “All I could think of when I thought I was going to die was you and El. How much I love you both, how an grouchy old bear like me could have the love of two amazing women.” He leans away, and you tilt your head back to look into his face. His eyes are glassy but soft. “Broke my heart to think I’d never get to see El smile or hear her laugh again, never get to kiss you stupid, or hold you in my arms.” 

He leans down, brushing his nose gently against yours. “Damn it, love you so much, baby. So glad I made it back to you.”

You answer by leaning up and covering his mouth with yours. He tastes like old cigarettes and cheap beer and mint toothpaste; he tastes like home. His kiss is deep, hungry, demanding. A familiar spark ignites under your skin, sending molten warmth coursing through you. You press further into him, whimpering softly as he growls into your mouth. 

A shuffling in the hall breaks you apart. You look to see El standing there, 

“Woke up and no one was there,” she mutters, rubbing her arms. “Was scared.” 

Sympathy floods you. “Oh honey, I’m sorry. Did you have another bad dream?”

She nods, looking small and lost. Hopper lets out a pained sigh. 

“Come here kid,” he says, and she eagerly climbs up onto him, curling into his chest. He puts his head against hers, and she closes her eyes at the contact. You can’t help but smile at the two of them, father and daughter. They may not be blood, but the love there runs deep and pure. 

El opens her eyes and sees you smiling, and a small smile appears on her own face. She places a small hand over yours and Hopper’s entwined ones. 

“My family,” she says quietly. “My home. My heart.”

You feel Hopper tighten his arm around you, watch as he drops a kiss on El’s forehead. Your heart swells to bursting, your soul feels complete. 

“Yeah kid,” Hop says, and his voice shakes with unshed tears as he holds the two of you close. “Mine, too.”


End file.
